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Asleep Underground

Who am I in the mind of a critic?Nothing but a tryhard and a decrepit.What do I look like in the eyes of a doubter?A small and rotten, wilting flower.Who do I resemble in the archive of the shirker?A fallen dwarf embargoed to eternal slumber.While he's busy slurping straight from his flagon,I flapped my wings, no longer the sleeping dragon.